


The Symbolism Of Violets

by afteriwake



Series: nongentorum [58]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 04, Bisexual Molly Hooper, Embarrassed Molly, F/F, Flowers, Impressed Mary, Impressed Molly, Irene Adler & Mary Morstan Friendship, Irene's Past, Language of Flowers, Mary's Past, Mentioned Irene Adler, Molly Hooper/Mary Morstan Friendship, Office Filled With Flowers, POV Mary Morstan, Past Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes, Reassuring Mary, Romantic Gestures, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:44:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9272345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Molly shows Mary her office, which is filled to the brim with violets, and Mary knowsexactlywho sent them to her without Molly saying a word and what exactly they mean.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onceinabluemoon13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceinabluemoon13/gifts), [McBangle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/McBangle/gifts).



> So this is one of the ships requested for the last five to my 800th Sherlock fic, and was picked by **onceinabluemoon13** , and is also a belated Christmas gift to **McBangle** who had wanted all femslash fic for the occasion. It's not based on any specific prompt, but instead by [this](https://s27.postimg.org/mipa2h7oz/3_Femslash_Irene_Molly_Untitled_1_Reque.png) little infographic I've had saved forever that I had wanted to use for one of the many femslash ships I fic, and this was just what came out. I'm sorry there isn't much actual Irene, but I miss Mary and this just kind of spewed out.

“Isn’t this amazing?” Molly gestured to her office when Mary pushed the pram inside. “I walked in this morning and I swear, it seemed like virtually ever surface that wasn’t covered in papers and equipment was covered in pots of flowers.”

Mary came around and looked at all of the purple flowers that, as Molly had said, covered nearly every inch of her office. They were on every windowsill, on every surface of her desk they could fit, on the cabinets, covering the cot that was there, there were even large pots filled with violets taking space up under the windows. She knew who would make a gesture like this, and she wondered just how long she had been observing Molly, and whether Molly even knew she was _being_ observed by The Woman. 

Irene...she’d had her run-ins with her in the past, when she needed information that Irene held close to the vest. Their relationship was never sexual, not that she might have minded. But they traded information for lessons. Irene had taught her quite a few tricks of her trade, enough to help her out of a few sticky situations where she had had to use her feminine wiles, and she, in turn, had taught Irene how to better defend herself, how better to extract information, how to better protect the information she kept. She had felt a _smidge_ bad when she heard about the encounter between Irene ad Sherlock but, well, it had been his own fault.

But now she was remembering a conversation over superb oolong tea and Irene saying if she should ever want to woo a lover, if she was a woman, she would seduce her with violets in honor of Sappho and the garlands of violets she and her lover used to wear. She’d thought it was charming that in the 1910s to the 1950s, women used to give their female lovers violets to woo them, and she thought she would do the same.

The fact that the posts were red, the damn near shade of lipstick Irene always wore, could _not_ simply be coincidence. And since she counted anywhere from a hundred to...oh, she didn’t know, nine hundred, all crammed into this tiny room of all sizes, it had to cost a small fortune.

It was _exactly_ Irene Adler’s style.

“I’m surprised you can move,” Mary said, looking for a place to park the pram and then giving up, taking Rosie out and then moving the pram back outside Molly’s office. “What are you going to do with them all?”

“See if the hospital wants most of them for patients rooms or a garden area. Take some home--”

“If she hasn’t already gotten your home,” Mary murmured.

Molly snapped her head up. “She? Mary, do you know who did this?”

Mary tilted her head. “I have a fairly good idea.”

“Who?” Molly asked, sitting on what little edge of desk was available, as there were pots of violets on her chair.

“The Woman, also known as Irene Adler. Apparently, her interest has turned from Sherlock to...you.” She watched as Molly’s cheeks turned a crimson red, and she sucked in her cheeks and smirked a bit. Now _that_ was an interesting reaction. “I take it this isn’t much of a surprise?”

“Irene _might_ have hacked into Sherlock’s phone,” Molly said, wringing her hands. “And may have seen a picture he had of me. And harassed him as to who I was. And he got exasperated and told her so. she began texting _me_. And I...texted back. A bit.” Then she looked down. “Quite a bit.”

“I see,” Mary said. “And the texts were interesting?”

“Well, not all of them. Some of them are quite boring. The type of thing you’d send to your best mate. Or your boyfriend. Or...girlfriend, I suppose. But some of them are...risque.” She wrung her hands. “Please don’t make me go into details.”

“It’s perfectly fine if you like men and women, Molly,” Mary said soothingly. “But if this _is_ Irene’s doing, I have firsthand knowledge it means she’s trying to woo you, not just get in your knickers.”

Molly’s head snapped up. “What?”

“Not _that_ type of firsthand knowledge. But back when I was an agent, I used to trade Irene knowledge for lessons and favours. She would teach me things to help me with missions, I would give her information and vice versa, no shagging involved. But we’d talk afterward, and I know something like this would be how she would show she was serious about a woman she wanted to have a relationship with.” Mary gave her a smile. “I bet when you get home, she may be there, waiting, with a garland of violets for you.”

Molly smiled shyly at that. “You think so?”

The morgue door opened and Mary turned, catching a glimpse of a black heel as it clacked on the tile floor, looking up to see Irene standing in the doorway near the pram, a pot of violets in her hand. Then she turned back, her smile wider. “Well, maybe not a garland. In fact, I think she may not wait until you get home.” She came over and kissed her cheek. “Have a fantastic lunch, love.” Then she walked out, winking at Irene as she passed. Molly was in for a fantastic afternoon, she was sure.


End file.
